


she acts like summer and walks like rain

by atlantisairlock



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They only hired her because she makes a whooping strawberry cake. She gets that; really, she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she acts like summer and walks like rain

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://theapocalypsewarriors.tumblr.com/post/102952557377/bellaateyourmother-this-is-the-cutest-fucking) cute comic.
> 
> title from 'drops of jupiter' by train.

 

They only hired her because she makes a whooping strawberry cake. She gets that; really, she does. She doesn't mind, because everyone loves her strawberry cake. Even Ron, who's notorious for hating everything. The shop's gotten a name for the cake, and nobody knows that the sole waitress of the store is the one baking them in the kitchen out back. Ann doesn't mind the lack of recognition. It's nice just to clear empty plates knowing that customers have eaten every crumb.

Every customer, except one.

 

 

Ever since Ann was hired, the same girl's been coming in every single day, at six in the evening, like clockwork. It didn't take her long to slip into the routine of bringing her a slice of strawberry cake and black coffee, and ever since then she always greets her with t _he usual?_ \- and the girl nods in response. 

Ann doesn't even know her name, but she knows how it goes. The girl stares blankly at the interior of the cafe, drains every drop of coffee, picks the fresh strawberry from the top of the cake - the very same she's meticulously mixed up in the back just moments before - and eats it, and leaves everything else. A few bills are left by the plate, and she's out of the door, disappearing into the dusk-drawn evening.

It doesn't matter how many times Leslie swoops over and snatches the plate to devour the uneaten cake with a sympathetic pat on Ann's shoulder, or how many times Chris stops brewing the coffee and quietly makes his way over to take the cake away before Ann can clear it, or how many times Andy loudly proclaims how fantastic it is and crams it into his mouth just moments after the girl leaves. It still makes her heart sink, every single time. 

She's tried asking. No, she hasn't, but she's looked into her bathroom mirror and rehearsed a speech of sorts. And then she gets out there with plate in one hand and mug in the other, and the only words that come tumbling out of her mouth are  _the usual?_

 

 

It takes her six months, and the fact that the girl's a minute late on Ann's own birthday. The cafe is empty, Ann's brimming with pent-up frustration and she just storms over in front of her colleagues and begins her tirade. 

"Look, I know you want black coffee and a piece of the strawberry cake I make in the kitchen out back fresh on the spot. But I want to know why you never eat the cake. I make the cake every single day. Everyone who comes in loves it. I buy the ingredients on my own. I came up with the recipe all by myself. I wake up at five every day just to make the commute here because nobody else would hire an inexperienced college dropout divorcee who lost her unplanned baby. I work hard, I bake almost all the cakes you see on display, and I want to know why all I do that goes into my cake isn't good enough for you!"

From behind the counter, Chris drops a plastic cup, which proceeds to clatter on the floor at Leslie's feet. Everyone has their mouths open in shock; nobody can believe that soft-spoken, shy Ann just said that. 

The girl blinks at her, calm, completely unruffled, and Ann snaps back to her usual self. She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks and the tears pricking her eyes. God. She's just fucked _everything_ up -

"I don't like cakes."

It's the first time she's heard the girl say anything, and her voice is softer, gentler than she expected. 

"Then... why do you always order the cake?"

"Because it's the first thing on the chalkboard you guys set up outside, and I like seeing you every day."

She doesn't know what to say in response to that. All she wants is to hide in the storeroom and sob. The girl saves her from needing to say anything, though, breaking the silence. "You make the cake?"

"Yeah." 

Pause. "The usual."

"Yeah. All right." Ann steps back, swallowing hard. "I'm... sorry for - "

"It's okay." 

Ann swears she feels the girl's eyes boring through her back as she turns away.

 

 

"Do you want me to bring her the cake instead?" Chris asks her once she's plated it.

"Yes, please." She's grateful for his tact, and he nods as he takes the cake along with the coffee he's brewed and brings it to the table. 

Ann does end up sitting on the hard stone floor of the storeroom while Tom, Donna, Andy and Leslie try to cheer her up. By the time she exits the cramped area, the girl is gone. 

But this time the plate on the tabletop is empty. 

 

 

The next day she comes in and takes her seat, as if nothing changed at all, and that makes Ann's heart sink even further. 

"The usual?"

The girl shakes her head. "My name is April," she states matter-of-factly, as if that's supposed to explain it all. "You're beautiful." That's even more matter-of-fact, and Ann bites her lip. "Thank you. And, um... I'm Ann."

Tom's always joked about how their regular has a default expression that straddles the line between _I hate everyone_ and _I want to kill everyone_. For the first time, Ann notices that expression soften, her lips curling up at the edges. "Hi, Ann. I'd like two strawberry cakes and a coffee... but only if you sit down with me and eat the other one." 

Ann stares at her for a long moment, before finally answering "okay". 

 

 

The days slip past, unnoticeable, fading into each other.

The same girl takes the same seat near the same window every day. The same waitress smiles and walks out to take the same order she always does. 

"The usual?"

April'll slide her hand into Ann's and smile up at her, that same smile that's always on her face now. "Yeah." 

**Author's Note:**

> podfic available [here](https://soundcloud.com/aceolotl/she-acts-like-summer-and-walks-like-rain)!


End file.
